


A Father's Advice

by Uniasus



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Magic Revealed, Season/Series 02, Well it's off screen provided by Lancelot, Whump, but it's light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 10:31:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12057153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uniasus/pseuds/Uniasus
Summary: It's Merlin's own fault. Shoulda locked the door before magically sharpening his sword and mumbling revenge plots for a goblet to his head. He expected Arthur's punch. He didn't expect Uther to argue against the pyre.





	A Father's Advice

Merlin’s day started out okay, and then went south when he went to wake up Arthur. Most of his mornings went that way, but days typically got better as Arthur switched from a grumpy-in-the-morning prince to a happy-to-be-training prince.

Sadly, such a day was not today.

Arthur had reacted to the sun in his face by grabbing the water jug on the bedside table and throwing it a Merlin. Jugs, larger and heavier than drinking glasses, hurt more when colliding with Merlin’s head. In this case, they also drew blood.

“Ow! Arthur!”

“Don’t be a girl, Merlin,” Arthur said. Or, Merlin assumed that’s what he said. Arthur’s mouth was in his pillow.

Merlin hissed, touching the side of his head. Nothing serious, and the blood should stop soon. He took the time to use Arthur’s wash basin to splash the blood away before selecting Arthur’s outfit for the day.

Arthur, more attached to his pillow than normal, refused to consider dressing until Merlin pulled the covers off the bed. The prince grumbled the whole time, insisting on a different shirt and complaining about the breakfast Merlin brought. He wanted four sausages, not three.

“I’m not going down to the kitchens just to get you a single sausage, Arthur. By the time I get back, you should be heading down to the field for training.”

“Fine,” Arthur grumbled, stabbing the third sausage extra hard.

And so went the rest of the day. Arthur’s morning grumpiness never went away. He barked at Merlin for being slow with the water, hit extra hard with the sword, and for extra torture came up with a new jousting exercise that involved Merlin holding a hoop smaller than his head for the knights to try to hit.

After being struck twice in the shoulder, Merlin decided he had enough and stormed off the field. 

“Just because you didn’t want to get out of bed this morning, doesn’t mean you have to take it out on me!”

“Make sure you sharpen my other sword and polish my tack!” Arthur yelled at Merlin’s retreating back.

Grumbling, Merlin detoured to the stables before picking up Arthur’s sword to take it to his room. With his shoulder throbbing, there was no way he’d be able to manually complete his chores – not properly anyway and not without exacerbating his injury. Merlin not being able to do anything tomorrow would no doubt sour Arthur’s mood further.

That left magic.

Merlin dumped the gear on the floor of his bedroom, rolling out his shoulder as he made sure that both the door to the hallway and the door to Merlin’s own room were closed. He’d ask Gaius later for a salve to smear on his shoulder, he hadn’t learned enough to make one on his own.

In his room, Merlin sat on the floor with his back against a bedpost and got to work. He sent a damp cloth over the riding tack to clean it, and when it finished, dried the saddle with another cloth. After directing a third cloth to rub an ointment into the leather, he reached for Arthur’s sword and propped it upon the floor before him, hilt in Merlin’s left hand. A whetstone zoomed in to rest on the edge of the blade.

As he moved his hand down the sword, inches above the edge, the whetstone followed his movements. Now that Merlin’s frustrations lessened from wordless air strangles, he cursed as he worked, the words falling into a rhythm to match the strokes down the sword.

“Maybe I’ll let the sheet wrap him like a mummy,” Merlin snarled, “Have them circle his head and cut off his air, or tie his feet together and drag him out of bed. Better yet, I can have the pillow beat him to death, so Arthur can die sneezing. Honestly, there is no reason for him to be in a bad mood today, or to take it out on me. Maybe I’ll make him lose his balance on the stairs, and then- “

“Urk.”

Merlin’s head snapped up. He’d been too busy contemplating revenge on Arthur, he’d failed to notice both the outer door and Merlin’s own opening. The result: Arthur standing over him, wide-eyed listening to Merlin planning potential murders while magically sharpening a sword.

The levitating saddle crashed to the ground.

Merlin scrambled to his feet. “Arthur, I can explain- “

Arthur answered with a punch to the face, knocking Merlin out.

* * *

 

Uther stared at his son. Arthur was agitated, pacing, pale. Haunted and in shock. He could understand the sentiment. A little bit.

“I want to confirm I heard correctly. Your manservant is a sorcerer.”

“Yes.”

“And you wish for the execution to be private.”

“Yes, father. I know sorcerers are burned publicly as a warning to the rest of Camelot, but I feel in this case that would be a bad idea. We would be publically announcing that a sorcerer lived amongst us, hidden, for two years. I fear it would give others ideas.”

“I concur.”

“So you’ll let Merlin die privately?” Arthur asked.

Uther tried to catch his son’s eyes, but Arthur continued to stare at the floor.

He didn’t know what to make of his son’s behavior. One hand, he was proud Arthur treated the threat of sorcerers as something serious and believed magic was a threat to the kingdom. Uther’s teachings had taken and grown in the next generation, roots deeper than he expected.

Deep enough to turn on a friend.

And what sort of king would Arthur be, so quick to cast aside those around him who served him faithfully?

Uther was no fool. In the two years since Merlin had been made Arthur’s manservant, the younger man had saved Arthur’s life several times. And Arthur returned the favor. Sentiment too. Neither man would admit it, but they often acted like friends, fellow squires squabbling over the silliest of things.

Merlin made Arthur smile, a rare thing, and Arthur would push it away to uphold the laws of Camelot. Uther’s laws.

“Are you sure you wish to condemn a friend to death?” Uther asked.

Arthur’s back went stiff. Shoulders back, head lifted, and eyes masked. “Merlin is a servant, not a friend. And even if he was, I could never befriend a sorcerer.”

Uther gave his son a good long look before releasing a heavy sigh. “I did, once.”

“Before you learned the dangers of it, surely.”

“Of course. But even then, after I knew the truth, I could not burn him.”

“Father?”

Shaking his head, Uther turned to the carafe on the table. He poured two goblets of wine, passing one to Arthur. His son looked confused but took it. When Uther took a sip, Arthur reluctantly matched him.

“I’m glad, Arthur, that you’ve taken my lessons about the evil of magic to heart. It is a wicked thing, not because of what it can do, but what it does to those who use it. Eventually, sorcerers are corrupted by the power and turn into threats against the kingdom. How long it takes to change a person’s heart varies, but everyone succumbs eventually. Which is why the idea of using magic has to be squashed early.

“But, son, I had hoped you’d also learn my other lessons. The people of Camelot are loyal to its king, but so too is the king to his people. And when someone serves us as faithfully as your manservant has served you, when they are one of the few people we trust, we would be remiss not to give credit to them.”

“Are you telling me to forgive Merlin for using magic just because he’s loyal?” Arthur looked as if he’d just been unhorsed.

“Of course not,” Uther frowned, “Using magic is against the law and should be punished, but in this case, death is a little harsh. A king should be just and uphold the law, but while ruling with strength is best, at times a softer hand is needed. Merlin is such a case.”

“Because he’s loyal.”

“Because, even if you won’t admit it, he’s a friend. And such connections should mean something to you, as a man if not a prince or king. We lead and rule, yes Arthur, but we are also examples for our people. Men other nobles aspire to be and peasants worship. And betraying friends is not something Pendragons should be known for.”

Arthur set his glass down with a thud. “Merlin has betrayed me, Father, by practicing magic.”

“And yet, you tell me you found him using magic to complete chores.”

“While plotting to kill me.”

Uther laughed. “I saw you on the lawn, training today. The boy took several hits, no doubt at full strength, without armor. Anyone would grumble.”

Arthur cocked his head. “I’m not sure I understand, Father. Merlin is a threat – “

“If he was, you’d already be dead. But you’re right, he’s a potential threat.” Uther put down his wine. “Follow me.”

Uther led the way with long strides towards the vaults, speaking again only once they were underground.

“The thing about magic is that it’s very attractive. People want it for various reasons, to make their lives easier, to accomplish a certain task. No doubt, your manservant started dabbling because he wanted to finish his chores faster.”

Behind him, Arthur mumbled something that sounded like _of course Merlin would_.

“Innocent reasons, and obviously he’s still new at being a sorcerer. The magic hasn’t corrupted him. So, as his friend, it’s your task to wean him off the magic before he turns evil.”

“Is that possible?” Arthur asked.

Uther smiled. He could hear the breathless hope in his son’s voice. Despite all his public dismissals of the lad, Uther knew Arthur cared about Merlin. Just like Uther had never stopped caring for his own best friend.

“It’s worked before.”

They reached the bottom of the stairs and Uther unlocked the vaults. It took him awhile to find the arm cuff, but when he did he presented it to Arthur with a smile.

“Magic eventually becomes instinctual for a sorcerer, to the point it’s his first choice for anything he does. When wearing this, every time he tries to access magic he’ll find it blocked and get a jolt of pain. Nothing too serious,” Uther said at Arthur’s frown, “I was told it hurt like a bee sting.”

“So it’s like breaking in a hound or horse. Punish the bad behavior.”

Uther smiled at Arthur. “Exactly. Only, with the cuff, you don’t have to worry about observing the behavior.”

“Why don’t we use this on all sorcerers?”

“There are not many of them. They’re sorcerer made, and few would construct something to hurt their own kind. And by the time most sorcerers make themselves known to Camelot, they are too deep into the dark side of magic. They’re traitors, dangers to Camelot, and deserve the pyre.”

He watched Arthur finger the cuff.

“Your manservant hasn’t reached that point yet. This will prevent that.”

“The friend you mentioned,” Arthur said, “did this work with him?”

“Of course. Gaius has been loyal to me for many years, is one of my trusted advisors, and best aid against magical threats. And I owe it to that cuff.”

* * *

 

Arthur must have knocked Merlin out good. He still slept on the floor of the cell, a bruise beginning to form around his eye in the shape of Arthur’s fist. From how Merlin slumped on his side, Arthur could see some of the skin under his neckerchief and shirt. More specifically, the edge of a bruise. No doubt from training that morning.

There was also a scab on Merlin’s forehead from the jug Arthur had thrown.

Arthur could see it, Merlin turning to magic to help with chores. Or to heal himself. Or even to help Arthur, because Merlin seemed to do the most ridiculous things for Arthur.

Just like, once upon a time, he could see Gaius turning to magic to heal.

Twenty-one years ago, Uther had helped save Gaius from magic. And now, Arthur would do the same for Merlin.

Standing in front of the cell, Arthur turned the cuff over and over in his hands. It looked almost like a lady’s jewelry, a band two fingers think that curled over the upper arm with raised patterns on the metal. Only, instead of being crafted from gold, this cuff had been made from iron.

It felt cold in Arthur’s hands.

He brought it up to his mouth, breathing on the metal to warm it up. Once he was satisfied, he opened Merlin’s cell and stepped inside. Merlin stirred, but stayed asleep. Arthur didn’t remember punching Merlin that hard. _He probably just needs the extra sleep,_ Arthur guessed.

Gently, Arthur pushed up Merlin’s left sleeve. The hand of evil, according to his father. Merlin lacked the defined bicep of a knight, but he was no stick either. Day to day physical labor built up its own sort of muscles and strength.

Watching Merlin’s face for traces of wakefulness, Arthur blew on the iron cuff one last time before slipping the metal onto Merlin’s upper arm. Then, following his father's instructions, Arthur pricked his finger with a knife and let three blooddrops fall on the metal.

Instantly, Merlin jerked awake. His hand came out and slapped his arm, as if smacking a bug, and then Merlin’s whole body froze.

He stared at Arthur.

Arthur had never expected Merlin to look terrified of him. It stung twice. Because he had never wanted Merlin to fear him and because Arthur had indeed presented Merlin’s head to Uther.

Suddenly aware of how close they were, Arthur stood up. Merlin stayed, half prone, on the ground.

"I'm in the dungeons," Merlin said.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "How astute."

"Are they building a pyre?" Merlin whispered.

Arthur glared down at him. "You don’t want to defend yourself?"

"You saw me do magic, punched me in the face, and threw me in here." Merlin still spoke softly, at odds with the rough sarcasm Arthur was used to hearing him use. “I don’t know if anything I say will make a difference.”

“And if I said it might?”

Merlin looked down at the old hay he sat on. “I’ve been told, by someone much older than me and whom I hope hasn’t gone crazy due to lack of sunlight, that my role in life is to protect you.” Merlin looked up. “That’s all I’ve ever tried to do.”

Arthur watched him. Calculated his words and past actions. Truth was, Arthur had always believed that. Before. But even with the knowledge of Merlin being a sorcerer, everything still made sense.

Like Uther had said, Merlin had simply been burning off steam earlier. Arthur had been a bear this morning.

“I believe you,” Arthur said.

Merlin’s jaw dropped.

“Don’t look so shocked. I’ve believed your more ridiculous claims before. Valient’s snakes. That you had the strength to knock me out with a stick.”

“But you hate magic.”

The height difference was starting to get to Arthur, so he sat on the floor against the wall. After a few shuffles, Merlin joined him.

“Yes, I hate magic,” Arthur said, “Because of what it does to those who use it. You might have started practicing it based on something Gaius told you – “

“It wasn’t Gaius- “

“And protection is a knightly ambition, but magic would turn your heart eventually, Merlin. And I can’t have that.”

Merlin opened his mouth to argue and Arthur swatted his head.

“No arguments. I’m your Prince, listen to me.”

“So is there a pyre being built for me?” Merlin asked instead.

“No.”

Merlin grinned. “So now that you know, can I use magic to- “

Arthur held up a hand to shut him up. “Did you not hear what I said? Magic will corrupt you, and so you’ll stop using it. And this,” Arthur tapped a fingernail on the cuff, “will prevent that.”

Merlin looked down at the cuff, as if only now realizing he wore it.

“It’s a magic suppressor,” Arthur explained. “It’ll prevent you from casting any spells, and if you try to you’ll also get pinched. Negative reinforcement.”

“It blocks magic,” Merlin said, voice strangely hollow.

“Yes, and once you got a full month without it stinging you, you should be cured of the desire to use it and free of magic’s corruptions.”

Merlin gave Arthur a half smile. “A month without using magic?”

“A month without attempting to do magic, after probably several where you do,” Arthur replied.

“And once it’s over, this is over? No punishment for using it or anything? I don’t burn?”

“As long as you don’t pick up the practice again, then yes, Merlin. This is the last we’ll talk about it.”

“Okay.” Merlin yanked down his sleeve, covering the cuff. “I’m not that dependent on it. Start that month today.”

* * *

As soon as Merlin walked through the doors to Gaius’s chambers, he started looking for a pain relief potion. Granted, his aches and slight headache were most likely due to lack of food and rough handling than anything serious, but Arthur had given him an hour before helping Arthur to bed.

“Merlin?”

Merlin started at the sound of Gaius’s voice. His mentor sat at the table, reading a thick tome, glasses perched on the edge of his nose.

“You alright, Merlin?”

Merlin hesitated, debating about what to tell Gaius. That Arthur found out. That Arthur wasn’t going to hurt him. Cuffed him instead, and now Merlin would have to not use magic for a month to convince Arthur he was “cured” of magic.

“Just beat up from training,” Merlin said, rolling his shoulder.

He’d tell Gaius later that evening. He knew it wouldn’t be a quick conversation, and he didn’t have the time right now.

“Do you have time to eat? The stew just started cooking, but you missed lunch. There’s bread.”

“No,” Merlin said, measuring out a dose of pain killer and taking it. He pulled an ointment off a shelf, weighed it in his hand, then put it back. Asking for Gaius’s help in putting it on his shoulder would expose the cuff. The ointment, like their conversation, could wait until later that night.

“I’ll keep it warm then.”

“Thanks, Gaius.”

“Merlin.”

“Hmm?”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Merlin paused on the steps to his room. “I – later. Nothing serious or Camelot threatening, I promise. But for now, I got to gather Arthur’s stuff, put it back in the armory, and then fetch his dinner.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

Gaius nodded. “We’ll talk later then.”

Merlin winced. No doubt, Gaius would be thinking the worst for the next few hours despite Merlin saying it wasn’t. Oh well, later troubles.

He buckled Arthur’s sword and sheath around his own hips before scooping up Arthur’s tack. Adjusting his arms under the saddle, Merlin made his way out of his room back to the open physician’s chambers.

“Do stay out of trouble, Merlin,” Gaius said as goodbye.

Merlin answered with a grunt, manipulating his burdens to open the door and slip out.

By the time he’d dropped the saddle off with the stable boys to put away and set Arthur’s training sword in its right place at the armory, it was indeed time to fetch Arthur’s dinner.

Merlin rubbed his arm as he headed to the kitchen. The pain medicine he’d taken had helped with his headache and shoulder, but his arm still ached. Near the cuff, so Merlin knew it was to blame. Arthur hadn’t said anything about it being constantly painful.

He’d ask as Arthur ate.

Except Arthur watched Merlin like a hawk as he brought in dinner and immediately noticed Merlin favoring his left arm.

“Is it stinging you?”

“No, more like an ache – “

“God, Merlin.” Arthur rubbed a hand over his face. “It’s only supposed to hurt if you try to, you know!”

“But I’m not! I’m just carrying your dinner tray, like a nice, normal manservant.”

“Obviously not, or it wouldn’t be hurting you.”

Merlin frowned, placing the tray on the table. “I’m not trying to cast anything. And my eyes aren’t glowing, are they?”

Startled, Arthur looked up from the chicken to Merlin’s face. He scanned Merlin’s eyes, searching for flecks of gold. Merlin felt pretty confident the prince didn’t see any.

“Then you’re not even aware that you’re accessing your magic. Not for a spell, to keep it close and ready for one. Stop that.”

Merlin sputtered.  “I’m not doing anything! I promise!”

“It’s even worse than I thought, you don’t even know you’re doing it. You’re lucky I caught you before you got corrupted by magic. Figure out how to stop doing what you’re doing, and the cuff won’t sting you.”

Merlin caught himself from rolling his eyes.

“And to make sure you do it, you’re spending the night here.”

“What? No.” Merlin shook his head.

“And not in the servant’s annex. On the floor by the hearth.”

“Arthur! I’m not a hunting dog.”

“You need to be trained like one. And since you don’t even know what you’re doing wrong, you need someone to watch over you and tell you what to stop doing.”

“Oh? Try it. My arm is really starting to bother me. Please, tell me how to make it stop,” Merlin deadpanned.

“Don’t call on the magic,” Arthur answered.

Merlin gritted his teeth against the urge to roll his eyes. “I’ll get on that.”

To be honest, the ache from the cuff wasn’t extreme. No more than a sore muscle or bruise, though it did feel like the area of effect had expanded a bit since earlier that day. Merlin _wasn’t_ using magic. Or if he was, it was so passively he doubted he could stop it. No matter, it was a tolerable pain. And if Merlin had to put up with it for a month, hide every wince and attempt to tailor his movements, it would be worth it for the freedom he’d get back.

The problem was, the ache grew through the night.

Merlin tried to hide it, rolling on his side to face the hearth and not Arthur’s bed where the prince watched him for signs on casting. Of course, it meant sleeping on his injured shoulder and the aching arm, but it was worth it to avoid the risk of catching Arthur’s gaze.

Partly from the weight on it, partly from the encroaching spell from the cuff, by the time Merlin woke up in the morning his arm felt weak and useless. At least, as his left hand, Merlin could hide his over reliance on his right hand as he carried food back from the kitchen for breakfast.

Arthur, of course, noticed the tremble in his arm as Merlin put the lightly filled tray down.

“You’re still trying to access magic.”

Merlin shook his head. “I’m not, I promise. Arthur, I’ve cast spells before and I’ve done nothing of the sort for the past day. Maybe it’s just an adjustment period, for the cuff.”

Arthur didn’t’ look like he believed him. Merlin didn’t believe himself either, but his thoughts on the matter were third, behind Arthur’s and Uther’s. Merlin would find a way to mask the pain later today.

* * *

Except, Arthur kept Merlin under close watch most of the morning. He didn’t have a moment to himself until Arthur’s scheduled lunch with Uther, at which point Merlin hurried back to his own chambers.

The pain from the cuff had expanded, down to Merlin’s fingertips and up to his entire shoulder. And the effects weren’t limited to the area around the suppressor cuff. His entire body mildly ached, and it was harder to breathe than it should.

Gaius immediately understood something was wrong.

“Merlin!”

“Hey, Gaius.” Merlin accepted Gaius’s help to the table and a dose of pain reliever.

“What happened? You didn’t come home last night.”

Merlin winced. “I planned to, but Arthur insisted I sleep on his floor.”

“On his floor?”

Merlin rolled up his left sleeve, exposing the iron cuff on his arm. It looked so innocent, just a brand of metal on his bicep that wasn’t even tight.

Gaius went still when he saw it. “Merlin, this is a suppressor cuff.”

“I wanted to explain last night.”

“Explain now.”

Merlin groaned. “I was careless and angry at Arthur. He hurt my shoulder,” as if on cue, Gaius fetched the appropriate ointment, “and so I came back here to do my chores.”

“Doing magic,” Gaius guessed, helping Merlin out of his shirt.

“Yes. And Arthur barged in without knocking and found me.”

“So Arthur went to Uther.”

“So Arthur – yeah, how’d you know?”

Gaius sighed, starting to smooth the ointment into Merlin’s skin. Merlin melted into the cooling effect.

“You are aware I practiced magic on a regular basis before the Purge,” Gaius began.

“I gathered, yes.”

“I never told you how I survived it.”

Merlin looked over his shoulder. “I figured you promised to give up magic and Uther believed it.”

“Well, yes. But it’s a little more complicated. That was the height of Uther’s paranoia. What you’ve experienced your two years here has been tame. I needed to convince him of my worth, not just as a physician but as an advisor and aide. Only by proving my loyalty did Uther let me live.”

“Did he do that for other sorcerers?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“A few reasons,” Gaius said. “Most prominent being, though you may find it hard to believe, we were close friends when younger. That wasn’t enough for Uther, he insisted on proof and it came in the form of the cuff.”

“What?”

“Twenty years ago, Uther made me wear this. For a whole year.”

“Arthur didn’t say.”

Gaius went back to treating Merlin’s shoulder. “I’m not sure what Arthur knows and doesn’t. But make no mistake, he got the cuff from Uther.”

Merlin slumped. “He told his father then. That I had magic.”

“Yes.”

Merlin had imagined Arthur knowing about his magic numerous times and finding out in various ways. Most of them ended with Arthur being upset and killing Merlin, or Arthur being upset, telling his father, and then Uther killing him. Though, Merlin had always hoped the unacknowledged friendship between him and Arthur meant Merlin was more likely to be banished than burnt. He’d never been able to pin his hopes on that, not really.

He’d never thought that Arthur would tell Uther, and then Uther would suggest an alternative to the pyre.

Merlin felt odd, feeling grateful towards the man who single-handily was the cause of all the hate and fear he’d lived with.

“Arthur told me I had to wear this a month, without it stinging me. Do you think Uther will make him extend that to the year you wore it?”

“I think we have bigger issues than that, right now.”

“Bigger issues?” Merlin echoed.

Gaius ignored him, putting away the salve and beginning a vital check. Merlin didn’t see the reason for one, but the serious look on Gaius’s face made him wonder if he should. If there was more to the cuff than Arthur had told him.

After all, Arthur mentioned it would sting only when a spell was attempted. He’d said nothing about the dull ache creeping through Merlin’s body.

“Gaius,” Merlin prodded after a few minutes.

“I’m sorry, my boy. But you’ve been the victim of Uther’s purge of magical knowledge. He’s banished the little he knew from his head and taught Arthur even less.”

“Gaius.”

“Merlin, I’ve known since you walked through my door you were a special boy. A warlock, which had been rare breeds even before the Purge. And because of that, this cuff has a different effect on you than it did me.”

“Like what?” Merlin tried to keep the fear out of his voice.

“It suppresses magic. All magic, Merlin. Not just spells, but the power that flows through your veins. You are, just barely, a creature of magic which means you require it to live. The cuff won’t just hurt you when you try to cast, Merlin. It’s slowly shutting down your body.”

“How slowly? Can I last a month? I just need to hide everything from Arthur for thirty days, and then things will be fine.”

“Hard to say. There was always very little information on warlocks, and so I can only base my guess on my own awareness of how the cuff works. The stronger the spell, the more the pain. I’m assuming the more magic a warlock has, the more he needs it for life. And thus, the quicker he would feel the effects of its suppression.”

“Gaius,” Merlin breathed, acutely aware of his body’s aches. The strain in his chest. “Can you get it off?”

Gaius shook his head. “It's blood operated. Only Arthur can do it.”

“We have to figure something out.”

“We will. But for now, hold out as long as you can. Don’t show any weaknesses to Arthur or Uther. Who knows how they’ll take this.”

Merlin nodded.

* * *

“Boy!”

Merlin froze as King Uther shouted. While there were several people in the hallway just outside the laundry, Merlin was the only male.

A perfect servant, Merlin turned, bowed, and addressed the king without looking into his eyes. “Yes, sire?”

He felt Uther’s eyes on the top of his head.

“Follow me. I have need of you.”

“Um...” Merlin wanted to ask if he could deliver the clean sheets to Arthur’s chambers first, his arms trembled with the slight weight, but Uther had already turned and strode down the hallway.

Merlin scrambled to catch up, keeping pace behind Uther, and tried to mask his heavy breathing. Four jogging steps felt like a full round of Arthur bashing on a shield Merlin cowered behind. Hopefully, Uther didn’t notice.

The king led the way to an empty solar, furnished with a modest set of chairs at a table. Uther sat, but Merlin stood straight between him and the closed door. He did his best to hide how awful he felt but obviously failed.

“It’s stinging you a lot,” Uther said.

“Yes, sire.”

“You must be strong willed, to be so used to reaching out for magic and not having been corrupted yet.”

“I’ve been told I’m very stubborn, sire.”

Uther actually snorted.

After a moment of silence, Merlin peeked up at the king. He found Uther studying him in return. As the silence stretched, Merlin shifted on his feet, uncomfortable.

“Thank you, sire.”

“For what?” Uther asked.

“For convincing Arthur not to burn me.” Gods, Merlin had never expected to have this conversation with _King Uther_. The trees were laughing, he was sure.

“It wasn’t for your benefit, boy. Magic is a despicable thing. I hate the idea that someone has used it so close to my son. But, I do recognize that you have not done harm with it. And having Arthur be the cause of the death of a friend would have…consequences.”

Merlin gave a nod. He hadn’t moved quickly at all, but even so, the room spun.

Uther caught his discomfort. “What spell did you just try to do?”

Merlin searched his mind for something. “Something to make these sheets lighter. And the one I use to make them smell nice.”

Uther gave him an incredulous look. “You are touched in the head, searching out magic for chores as simple as that.”

“I think of it more as using magic to help my master. Shouldn’t I do anything I can for my prince?” Merlin locked eyes with Uther and caught a flash of recognition.

No doubt, Gaius had said something similar years ago. That or loyal idiots were people Uther came across on a regular basis.

“If you are still reaching for magic for the simplest of things, despite the pain, you are more dependent on magic than anyone I’ve met. If you can’t wean yourself off of it, you’ll face the pyre. You have a week to get it under control.”

Merlin looked at the table again. “I understand, King Uther.”

“Good. Now go back to work.”

Merlin fled.

* * *

Arthur frowned as Merlin delivered breakfast. He’d been wearing the cuff three days, and he still hadn’t stopped accessing magic passively. And the effects were there for everyone to see. Pale skin, labored breathing. Yesterday, he’d overheard Merlin insist he wasn’t sick to no less than four other servants.

He’d have a harder time convincing people he wasn’t today.

“Cook says I can’t get your lunch today.” Merlin placed the tray down on the table.

“Why not?”

“Cuz I’ll contaminate it.”

Arthur watched Merlin for the eye roll, but none came. He must really be feeling awful.

“You’ll just have to stop accessing magic then,” Arthur commanded.

“I’m trying,” Merlin said, sounding not at all as if he was.

“Merlin, you know you have to.”

“I know!”

Merlin’s shout echoed through the room. Arthur stared at him. Merlin pressed a fisted thumb to the center of his forehead as if warding off a headache.

“I know,” Merlin repeated, “but it’s hard to stop something I don’t know I’m doing. Or have no control over.”

Arthur thought about arguing, magic had to be called so Merlin had to be doing something. Even unconsciously. He could meditate to find it. Or something. But Merlin looked uncomfortable and ill, enough where Arthur didn’t have the heart to argue with him.

He watched as Merlin set about straightening up the room. He moved slowly, arms trembling even as all he did was smooth sheets. When he looked at Arthur’s armor, his shoulders actually slumped. No doubt, lifting a vambrace would be difficult.

Merlin’s pitiful countenance was enough for Arthur to just take the cuff off and pretend. Merlin would never harm him, hadn’t even tried over the entire time he’d been working as a manservant. But Uther’s words snuck into Arthur’s head. Magic slowly corrupted. And Arthur wouldn’t be able to stand watching that happen to Merlin.

If only Merlin would stop trying to cast spells!

As Arthur ate breakfast, he made the decision to not train in his armor today. Not least because he worried Merlin would collapse from the strain. And Merlin’s dragging footsteps had nothing to do with Arthur carrying his own sword to the field.

“Why don’t you have the day off?” Arthur asked as they walked through the castle to the training grounds.

“What?” Merlin asked.

“I won’t have the kingdom thinking I’m so bad a master as to make someone who looks so sick work. Use a few hours to figure out how to stop doing whatever you’re doing that’s activating the cuff. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Merlin stopped at a landing. Arthur kept going.

“I’ll get chicken,” Merlin called after him.

* * *

Merlin stumbled into his chambers, barely noticing Gaius sitting at a table in the main room.

“Merlin?”

“Sleep,” he answered, falling face first into his cot.

Gaius followed him into his room. “The effects keep getting worse.”

“You don’t say.”

“Merlin.”

“Hmmm,” Merlin said into his pillow.

“Merlin, if this continues I think the cuff will kill you.”

It was a testament to how awful Merlin felt that his first thoughts to that were _Uther would be okay with that_ and _better than the pyre._ Then he realized this wasn’t just an everyday possibility of death, there but not concrete, but a true risk.

Merlin pushed himself into a seated position. “You’re serious.”

Gaius came to sit next to him on the cot. “Very.”

“It’s blood locked, you said.” Merlin leaned into Gaius’s warmth. He felt cold a lot, nowadays.  “I’ll just nick Arthur shaving and – “

“It needs to be fresh and willing.”

There went that idea.

“I’ll keep looking,” Gaius said. “But you could use a small nap. When do you have to return to Arthur?”

“Dinner,” Merlin answered, already curling up on his side. “I’m off until dinner time.”

“I’ll wake you then, if you don’t get up.”

* * *

Merlin did not deliver Arthur’s dinner, which he took as a sign of Merlin still feeling awful. It was the only reason he didn’t hunt Merlin down to yell at him for his failure to collect Arthur’s training gear for maintenance.

So Arthur was surprised to hear a knock on the door as he slipped into his nightclothes. No help required.

“Come in!” he said, once he’d fully slipped the fabric over his head.

Gaius entered, wringing his hands.

“Gaius. Is Merlin alright?”

“No, sire. In fact, if you would follow me to my chambers?”

Arthur waved a hand down his body. “In my nightclothes?”

Gaius smiled. “I’d suggest you change before coming.”

“This is serious then. It can’t be put off until morning?”

“I’m afraid not, sire.”

Something in Gaius’s tone chilled Arthur. If this was serious enough to warrant a late night visit, it was serious enough to forgo proper clothes. Still wearing his pants, thankfully, Arthur slipped his feet into boots. “Lead the way, Gaius.”

Arthur hadn’t realized how late it had gotten without Merlin there to tuck him into bed. No one else walked the hallways, which was probably for the better. Still, Gaius didn’t speak until they were in the physician’s chambers.  

Merlin slept on a cot in front of the fire, which had been banked. He was covered in blankets.

“Are you trying to sweat out a fever?” Arthur asked, taking a step towards Merlin. But when he touched Merlin’s hand, it was cold.

“I’m trying to keep him warm,” Gaius said. “The cuff is messing with his body.”

“Why would it do that?” Arthur turned to look at Gaius. “It’s just to cause a bit of pain every time a sorcerer tries to use magic.”

“Ah,” Gaius said, sitting down in the chair next to Merlin’s head.

Arthur quickly grabbed a second to join him, putting it near Merlin’s hip so Arthur could hold the other’s man hand.

“See, this cuff was designed to be worn by sorcerers, and your father succeeded in wiping them from Camelot. Myself excluded.”

Arthur frowned. “Plenty of sorcerers have been caught in Camelot, these past five years.”

Yet even as Arthur spoke, Gaius shook his head. “Your father’s lack of precision has led to the ignorance of an entire generation. You use the term sorcerer to mean magic user when that’s too broad a term.”

“Explain.”

“There are those who are taught the skill, and those who are born with it. And no one had taught magic since the Purge’s beginning. All that you have seen your father harm are witches and warlocks, people born with a talent for magic.”

“You mean, they’re born wicked?”

Gaius looked like he wanted to smack someone. Arthur scooted his chair away.

“I can explain later, but please, sire. First, take the cuff off Merlin.”

“No.” Arthur crossed his arms over his chest. “Merlin’s not from here, so it’s possible he’s a sorcerer, by your definition- “

“He’s not.” Gaius’s voice rung with truth. “He’s a warlock, and if he wears that cuff much longer, it will kill him.”

Alarmed, Arthur looked at Merlin on the cot. Indeed, Arthur had never seen the younger man so still. And true to Gaius’s claims of keeping him warm, the edges of Merlin’s lips were blue. No doubt so were his fingers and toes.

Arthur turned back to Gaius, grim. “That cuff is for his own good. Merlin needs to stop using magic to save his soul.”

“That’s a load of hob-wash,” Gaius said. “Magic is a talent, a skill, like swordplay or my own knowledge of herbs. Just like you can defend and I can heal, both of us can also kill with our talents. Magic is the same. How it’s used depends on the person. It does not corrupt a man’s heart. If it did, would the druids be so peaceful?”

Arthur pressed his lips together. Gaius took that a cue to continue, voice rushed.

“But magic goes beyond that, for those born with the talent. Just as your need to be outside helps define you, so does magic running through Merlin’s veins define him. You feel itchy and get all grumpy when you are forced to stay indoors,” Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but Gaius plowed on, “and when a witch or warlock is blocked access to magic they get sick. They were _born_ with it, Arthur. Their bodies need it. And without it, they die.”

The words filled the empty space between them.

“People aren’t _born_ with magic,” Arthur insisted.

“Just like griffins aren’t real?”

Arthur frowned because many things he had believed to be false tales had turned true these past two years.

“I don’t want to change your mind about magic,” Gaius went on. “You can continue to hate it, I don’t care. You can continue to burn those who use it, destroy druidic sites. All I care about, right now, sire, is Merlin. The cuff you put on him cuts him off from the magic he needs to live. I don’t want him to die,” Gaius’s voice caught on a sob, “And I didn’t think you’d want him to either.”

Arthur looked at Merlin again. He was, indeed, sick. But he couldn’t take the cuff off. Gaius, despite having practiced magic once, years ago, had obviously been taught the wrong things.

Merlin needed to have magic removed from his life, to purify not just his heart but apparently also his body. And like any man going through withdrawal, the process was not an easy one.

Arthur reached through the space between him and Gaius, to grab the physician’s hand. “I understand the wish to ease his suffering, but taking the cuff off now would just mean it would have to go back on later. It’s best for Merlin to go clean now, as ugly as it is.”

Arthur stood, ignoring the despair in Gaius’s eyes. The way the physician opened his mouth to protest.

“Merlin can have tomorrow off,” Arthur called over his shoulder. “When he wakes in the morning, let me know. I want to talk to him.”

With that, Arthur left the room.

* * *

Come the morning, Arthur woke from a restless sleep. He’d suffered small glimpses of nightmares, Merlin with orange eyes pulling down a castle wall, Merlin being publicly burned, Merlin leading enemies into the heart of Camelot, and Merlin lying still while Gaius sobbed. None of it, Arthur told himself, would actually come to pass.

Merlin would get through this hump, clear the magic from his body, and be the goofy, loyal servant he always was and will be.

Any moment now, a servant would knock on his door with a message from Gaius, saying Merlin had awoken.

Except, no message came.

And the look in Gaius’s eye from the previous night floated through Arthur’s head all morning. The despair. The loss. As if the moment Arthur stood, Gaius had started mourning while all his confidence and pride in Arthur slipped away.

Eager to get the image out of his head, Arthur headed to the physician’s chambers to check in on Merlin.

He opened the door, without knocking, to find a strange man compressing Merlin’s chest.

Arthur’s sudden shock, the dread of losing his only friend, prevented him from recognizing the man until Merlin took in an unsteady breath.

Lancelot collapsed back into his chair, the one Arthur had vacated the night before, looking for all the world like he had been dropped down a trap door, only to grab the edge of the floor.

“Sire!”

Arthur spun around to see Gaius behind him in the hallway, a tray with lunch on it in his hands. Immediately, Arthur stepped into the tower. Lancelot’s head snapped towards him. Gaius pushed Arthur aside to enter the room, all attention on Merlin.

“It happened again, didn’t it?” Gaius asked, setting down the tray.

Lancelot gave Arthur a quick glance, before turning his attention to Gaius.

“Yes.”

“I’m glad you were here.”

“Me too, but Gaius. That’s three times now since I arrived early this morning. Maybe you should let him go.”

The words were laced with sorrow, layers of it that made Arthur’s heart clench. He felt guilt stab his stomach because Gaius had been right. Merlin would die because of the cuff.

Gaius looked towards Arthur, which served as Lancelot’s cue to look too.

There was a lot Arthur should say, _I’m sorry_ and _You were banished, Lancelot_ and insist that Merlin needed to get rid of the taint of magic. But he believed now that Merlin couldn’t be separated from it. Or at least, not without great consequences.

“I know you just got here, Lancelot,” Arthur said, stepping into the room and grabbing a knife from Gaius’s table. “But I’m going to ask you to leave again as soon as possible.”

“Sire, I promise I won’t cause trouble. Please, just let me help with Merlin.”

Arthur pricked the tip of his finger. Blood welled in the cut. Gaius’s eyes went wet and he quickly scrambled to pull up Merlin’s left sleeve. Lancelot looked on, confused.

“I’m telling you to help Merlin,” Arthur continued, squeezing his finger for a bigger bead of blood. “In a few hours, I’ll tell my father Merlin succumbed to the taint of magic. Gaius and I will grieve. But in reality, you are to take Merlin far from here as possible. Don’t bring him back.”

Arthur smeared blood on the iron cuff.  With a soft _click,_ it fell off.

Instantly, the small hitch in Merlin’s breath disappeared. His skin, while still pale, gained a touch of color. His eyelids flickered, then went still.

Gaius leaned down to press his forehead to Merlin’s, crying.

Arthur had to turn away and found Lancelot staring at him.

“You’re a good man, Arthur Pendragon, and will make a great king.”

“Get him out of here,” Arthur waved a hand through the air, “keep him safe. And – “

And what? Send letters to keep Arthur up to date in Merlin’s life? Help Merlin rid himself of the taint of magic? Wean him from the power?

Except those thoughts were the result of his father’s propaganda. Arthur, it seemed, had much to learn. Because he refused to believe Merlin had been born wicked.

“And keep an ear out for change,” Arthur continued, “Because one day, I’ll want Merlin back here to serve me.”

Lancelot smiled. “Of course.”

“I have places to recommend,” Gaius said, tucking the blanket around Merlin. “Let him get a few hours of proper rest and a meal. Once it’s dark, Lance, I’ll help you sneak out of the citadel.”

“My father might want to see his body,” Arthur said.

Gaius nodded. “There are tonics to mimic death. No worries, Arthur. This will work.”

Arthur wondered how many times Gaius had done this before, sneaking sorcerers and witches and warlocks beyond the city walls. It didn’t matter, he thought later, using an onion to shed a tear in front of his father. Merlin was safe, Arthur would learn, and one day Camelot would be better to its people.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah...this was simply an excuse to play with the ideas in my head. I'll get back to the longer stories soon, I promise.
> 
> I hear you Veritas folks! Months without an update and your reviews are keeping that muse alive!


End file.
